Addicted
by factionofagirl
Summary: Since Beatrice Prior lost both of her parents a year ago, her life has spiraled out of control. She's turned to drugs and bulimia. After waking in the E.R. following an overdose, Tris is sent to the Dauntless Treatment Center where she meets a certain blue-eyed boy that helps her find new meaning in her life. Falling in love at Dauntless is a dangerous game.
1. Addicted

_**A/N: Hi everyone, I'm glad to be back after a bit of a hiatus. This fic will deal with serious issues including drug addiction, eating disorders, trauma/PTSD, etc. and this chapter does deal with some drug use and eating disorder behaviors so please don't read if you're sensitive to these. While this story will deal with eating disorders some, it won't be as in-depth as my other fic Dauntless Dance. I'll also be including a fact related to the aforementioned issues at the beginning of each chapter. Enjoy!**_

_**Did You Know?**_

37% of people with Bulimia Nervosa also abuse substances.

Tris' POV

My head throbbing is the first thing I notice when I wake up. I gingerly grab my head, thinking that I must have hit when I fell. I try to replay what I last remember and groan when I notice the nearby heart monitor beeping.

I remember slipping out into the night to score my next hit. It had been what 2 or 3 days since the last time? I can't remember for sure. All I know is that the urge, the craving to use last night became so strong that I couldn't wait another night.

I snuck out of the house around 11 last night once I was sure that my brother, Caleb, was asleep. I didn't want him to know what I was doing. Truthfully, I don't want anyone to know what I do. It's not something I like doing or am proud of.

I hate to think of what my parents would think of me now too. My parents. I ache just thinking of them. In the year since they've died, I haven't taken it well while becoming addicted to drugs and the relief from purging almost everything I eat.

My brother Caleb has been oblivious to all of it though I've gone to the trouble of making sure it stays that way. I always make sure he is out of the house or asleep before I do anything though that hasn't stopped him from asking questions of course.

He finds the empty chip bags, candy wrappers, and cookie packages in the trash that were full the day before. Last night was a mistake on my part, I think. I must have taken too much, that's all.

I remember the desperate feeling I had before I plunged the needle into my veins. The relief that followed was almost as good as the high itself. My stomach drops as I see a familiar face heading toward me and he does not look happy.

How did he know I was here? Does he know what landed me in the hospital? He must. I see Caleb walking towards me, wearing that look of disappointment I dread receiving. That look of anger mixed with sadness that he's perfected.

"Beatrice" he breathes. "What are you doing here?" he asks with a pointed look and an eyebrow raised. "I think you already know if you're here." I answer. "I do, but I just wanted to hear it from you. Heroin, really Beatrice? Do you have no value for your own life?" he replies, his voice rising increasingly louder.

I shrug, not wanting to hear him lecture me. I don't know what he wants to hear and I'm not in the mood to find out. I pretend to listen as he drones on and on about the danger I've put myself in and how he never thought I'd something like this. He's outraged about how a person like me could become an addict.

Truthfully, I don't know what kind of person I am now. I'm not the old version of myself and the new one just doesn't care. I continue to tune him out until I hear the words "three months" and "rehab".

Three months?! I must stare at him shocked because he repeats what he said. "Yes, you heard me right Beatrice. I want you to go to rehab for three months. They suggested it strongly given the overdose you had. And I've known something was wrong for awhile now and didn't say anything to you. You're going to Dauntless Treatment Center as soon as you're released here." he tells me while stuffing a glossy brochure in my hand.

Rehab? That's the only thing he has to offer me. I groan as I agree to go, but I'm not happy about it. Caleb leaves shortly after and I am alone with my thoughts yet again. I page through the brochure which was cheery little staged images of people smiling and phrases like "Recovery IS possible!".

I do read the information given though which says that Dauntless is a rehab center for men and women with substance abuse issues and mental health diagnoses, including eating disorders and PTSD. Dauntless specializes in "dual-diagnosis" treatment in the desert of Sunny Arizona.

Arizona seems like an odd choice given that we live in Chicago, but I don't have much say in it anyway. Besides, maybe I'll get a tan or something. I do wonder how I'm getting there until a nurse returns with my discharge instructions and I receive an email with an electronic plane ticket from Chicago O'Hare Airport to Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport which boards in three hours.

I'm given a bag packed by Caleb with the clothes and other essential items I'll need while I'm there then take a taxi from the hospital to the airport. I dig through the bag until I find some cash to pay the taxi driver and find security.

I walk through security and find the gate for my flight. I have some time before my flight takes off, so I decide to wander through the airport and find something to eat. I come across several bars where I'm tempted to grab a drink. I'm desperate to find something to help steady the nerves I have, but I decide against it since I don't want to deal with whatever the consequences are later at Dauntless.

Once I've eaten and feel that uncomfortable feeling of fullness after a binge, I find an empty bathroom and purge everything. I feel calm and in control afterwards which makes it all worth it.

I walk back towards the gate where the flight is boarding. I've never liked flying much. It always scared me growing up and not being in control is terrifying to me. All of my worries fade after I take in the sight of my seatmate though.

He's a handsome young man with the most gorgeous blue eyes I've ever seen. I accidentally trip on the way to my seat, embarrassed by my clumsiness yet he only grins and stares back at me.


	2. Savin' Me

_**A/N: Hey readers, sorry for the delay in adding this chapter. Life has been a little busy for me lately and I haven't had much time to write. I also wanted to add that I don't own Divergent or any of its characters, though I do occasionally add lines from the books. I'll be alternating between Tris' and Four's POVs as I think it makes the story more interesting. Thank you for everyone that has reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. Enjoy!**_

_**Did You Know?**_

In the U.S., nearly 35% of men who had PTSD at some point in their lifetime also had a problem with drug abuse or dependence during their lifetime.

Tobias'/Four's POV

I'm struck by my the beauty of my blue-eyed, blonde seatmate. I find myself unable to stop staring at her; looking at her is like waking up. We sit in silence as the other people around us board the plane.

I hate flying though. I never have really liked heights or small spaces, so flying forces me to confront both of those. I decide to introduce myself as I tell her shyly "Hi, my name is Four." She doesn't answer me or even look my way before asking "Four? Like the number?" with a grin.

" I was in the military and ranked fourth in my division so everyone started calling me Four. Is that a problem?" I smirk. "No. I'm Beatrice." she replies. "Beatrice just doesn't seem to quite suit you. Can I call you Tris instead?" I ask. She nods and tells me that she prefers Tris over Beatrice too.

"Well, Tris I'm going to Phoenix for three months of rehab. What about you?" I say quietly. She answers that she is as well and we're both going to the Dauntless Treatment Center as it turns out.

"I'm curious as to why you're going. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours'." I joke. "Alright, Four you're on." she answers then whispers the next part quietly. "Bulimia, heroin, and sometimes alcohol."

Bulimia? I wouldn't have guessed that, but I suppose it's not always something visible just like PTSD or any of the other things that can affect the mind and the body. I reply, my answer in a whisper "Same, except I have PTSD from serving in the military."

We're quiet once again when the pilot announces we are going to begin taking off. This makes me nervous, the feeling of being off the ground combined with the small space we're in reminds me of my first flight home following my first tour.

That time, I was excited to be flying and thinking about what it'd be like to go home when suddenly the plane began to shake uncontrollably. The pilot announced we'd hit some turbulence, but I knew it was more than that.

Instead of just turbulence, the plane started to descend downward towards the ocean we had been flying over. The next thing I knew we were being told to put on our oxygen masks and to find the life jackets underneath our seats.

The front half of the plane where I was seated plunged to the ground while the other fell into the water. Despite having life jackets, the people seated in that half drowned in the force of the tides present in the open ocean.

I had never directly experienced death until that day even during my first tour in Iraq. Since then, flying has turned from something unpleasant to terrifying. I think of this as I find myself trying to fight off a flashback as the plane accelerates and I tightly grip the armrest.

Beads of sweat form on my forehead and I struggle for breath as Tris asks if I'm okay. I nod slightly, trying to calm myself from the panic that rises within me. I'm gripping the armrest so tightly that my knuckles turn white.

"Four? Four, I'm here. Please let me help you, okay? You're safe." Tris says softly in a soothing voice. She rubs gentle circles in the back of my hand which helps to relax me and I loosen my grip.

It's in that moment that I realize something. There is one thing I know: For helping me forget how awful the world is and calming me down while sober, I prefer her to alcohol. She's done something no one else has been able to do and I barely even know her.

Sometimes, I think the world has a way of bringing people together. Call it what you want: God, fate, the universe but I think we were meant to meet. Does she feel this way too?

About halfway through the flight, the flight attendant brings the drink cart around which tempts me to order some alcohol despite my better judgment and feeling calmer than earlier. I decide against it and settle on a ginger ale which Tris and I split between two cups.

I raise my cup gently to clash with hers and tell her "To us, for whatever comes next." She repeats this quietly before raising the cup to her lips and taking a sip. I don't mean to, but sometime during the flight I fall asleep and wake to Tris shaking me awake later.

I wake just as the plane begins to land and I grip the armrest so tight that my knuckles turn white again. This time though I feel a small hand intwine its fingers with mine. Tris. I see her stare into my eyes and I stare back.

Beautiful. Her eyes are the only thing I look at and focus on as the plane descends toward the ground and we land. I take a moment to catch my breath before following her off the plane and into the warmth of the hot, desert sun.


	3. Stay

_**A/N: Hi everyone, happy to be back after a long hiatus. Here's an extra long chapter that I hope makes up for it. Should hopefully get another chapter up today or tomorrow, the end surprised as I was writing it but I thought it was interesting.**_

**Did You Know?**

Many people with bulimia nervosa also struggle with co-occurring conditions including self-harm or self-injury (deliberately harming themselves without suicidal intent), substance abuse, and/or issues related to impulsive behavior.

_Tris' POV_

I follow Four into the airport where we are greeted by a woman holding a sign with our names. "Hi, I'm Tori." she greets us before adding "You must be Beatrice and Tobias." Tobias, is that Four's real name?

It must be because he corrects her and answers back "Actually, I'm Four and this is Tris, but those are our real names." She bows her head slightly before responding "Right, I apologize. Like I said I'm Tori, I help transport patients and work at Dauntless as a resident assistant so you'll see me a lot helping the therapists, escorting patients, and that sort of thing."

We follow her outside where a plain white van is parked. It looks like the kind of thing you'd want to avoid, the kind of van that's typically associated with evil kidnappers like in the movies. I can feel the heat already, I knew we'd be going to the desert but I guess I hadn't considered how hot it would actually be.

"It's Friday, so that means you guys will be going into detox for the weekend before you can join everyone in residential and meet the others, but don't worry it isn't too bad. They try to keep you comfortable as much as possible." she encourages before ushering us inside.

The ride to Dauntless is quiet as no one seems to want to fill the uncomfortable silence. Before long, we pull up to a large building that reads "DAUNTLESS TREATMENT CENTER" in big black letters.

"Here we are!" Tori chirps as we leave the van and follow her inside. From there, we are separated from each other and taken into individual rooms. I look around the room and take in the sight of it.

It's plain with beige walls, a small window, and a bed. I guess I was expecting more, but it seems nice enough. Detox is what I am least looking forward to. I have had a taste of it on the days and nights that I haven't used, but I can't remember the last time I completely came off the drug.

Tori makes small talk while she searches my bags. I am examined, questioned about my drug use and mental health, and have my blood and urine tested. I have a bit of time to myself after, so I decided to take a nap.

I'm in the midst of a deep sleep when Tori appears, shaking me away for dinner. I don't want to eat. If it were up to me, I probably would never eat except for the occasional binge and purge thereafter.

I'm met with the smell of greasy pizza when I enter the dining room. I suppress the urge to run away as I obediently carry my tray to the table and begin eating. There are two pieces of pizza on my plate, a piece of garlic bread, and a brownie on my tray.

I also have a large glass of water that I have to drink in addition to eating the food. I pour the packet of parmesan cheese on the pizza as I try to steady my nerves. I haven't eaten this much food in a long time in one sitting other than a binge.

A girl who introduces herself as Christina sits next to me along with Tobias and another boy named Uriah. Everyone else seems to be eating and talking just fine while I am struggling to even take a bite.

I use a fork and arrange the food on my tray into pieces that I push around without actually eating. Tori and another woman named Carrie sit at the ends of our table, also eating but watching us.

Maybe I can just take a few bites and be done with it. I can feel them watching me though and I feel my anxiety intensify. I open my mouth and take a bite, which makes me immediately want to spit it back out.

I use my napkin to try to sop up some of the grease off of my pizza which gives me an idea. While they aren't looking, I put the pizza safely tucked in my napkin so it looks like I've eaten it without actually doing so. I pluck a strip of bell pepper off the pizza so that I am chewing something, maybe it'll be enough to convince them that I'm eating when I'm not.

I drink the water quickly while everyone else is finishing up, confident that no one will notice. Tori tells us we have fifteen more minutes left to eat and I find myself almost giddy at being able to leave the room.

My heart drops once Tori walks around the room and decides to sit by me. "Okay, Beatrice. Show me your tray and napkin please." she says. I show her the tray first then crumpled up napkin in a last ditch effort to avoid eating. "There's still a lot of food left on your tray. May I see your napkin now?" she asks.

I hold the napkin in the palm of my hand, holding it closed. Maybe she won't notice. She asks me to open the napkin up to show her the inside of it. "Hmm, I see. You didn't eat anything, did you?" she says in a concerned tone.

Frustrated, I give in and start eating and try to finish the pieces of pizza quickly. I move on to the garlic bread which tastes as though it's full of grease and cheese. This is the kind of food that I'd only eat during a binge and I certainly wouldn't want to eat this much in front of anyone else.

I like the secrecy of a binge where I can eat until I'm uncomfortably full and later get rid of it. The sense of control is empowering and being here where I'm forced to give it up is not. I manage to finish all of the food and feel that familiar feeling of fullness I like to avoid so much.

When dinner is over, we all move into a large group room with comfortable chairs placed in a circle. I feel disgusted with myself. I want to leave. I want to be alone with all of this and be able to purge.

I contemplate what my options are for accomplishing this goal. I could run away while no one is looking. I decide that I will, no one else is in the room yet. I don't have a car, but we can't be that far away from town so I can walk.

I move quickly towards the entrance and push open the door. Enough of this place. I take one last look to make sure the coast is clear and I run. The air is warm, but not humid and the sun is still out.

I walk until I reach a gas station. I immediately find the bathroom and feel the relief of finally being able to purge. I know Caleb wouldn't approve of me leaving, but I don't care. I'm not sure what my next move is or where I'm going to go now.

I'm happy to be free of that horrible place. What was my brother thinking sending me here? Doesn't he understand why I do what I do? I suppose not if he wanted to get rid of me. I wipe my mouth and flush before leaving the bathroom, wondering how soon they'll realize I'm gone.

Do they even care? Do they notice me or is it only that I bring money to them? I don't know. I'm starting to feel the familiar signs of withdrawal again and need relief. I don't know where I'm going to get drugs here though they have to be somewhere.

I leave the bathroom and find that they have in fact discovered I left. Tori and Tobias are both there looking at me expectantly. I leave the gas station, running and hoping that they can't catch me.

I run for what feels like miles when I hear noisy breathing behind me. It's Tobias, also drenched in sweat. "Finished running away?" he asks with an eyebrow raised. I shake my head and run into another sprint.

"Okay, I can run all night after you. Not my first time in the desert." he teases. I find myself wanting to go back to him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.

I stop, out of breath and drenched in sweat. I don't know him well and maybe it's a dangerous idea, but something about him makes me want to kiss him. He kneels next to me. I am aware of how little space there is between us-six inches at most. That space feels charged with electricity. I feel like it should be smaller.

The next thing I know, I'm wrapping my arms around him and feel his lips on mine. It's a warm, unexpected kiss that surprises us both as we open our eyes and breakaway from each other, neither knowing how to feel about what we've just done.


	4. Beautiful Disaster

**_A/N: Hope everyone is having a great weekend so far. I also forgot to mention that while I borrow lines from the Divergent Series I don't own it or any of its characters. I've done my best to try to keep the experiences the characters have as accurate as possible, but there may still be occasional mistakes. Enjoy!_**

Did You Know?

The most common symptoms experienced during detox from heroin include fever, aches and pains, insomnia, drug cravings, nausea and stomach pain, and mood changes including anxiety, depression, and irritability.

_Four/Tobias' POV_

"Oh there you guys are! I'm glad I caught you." Tori calls out from behind us, luckily not quick enough to catch us kissing. Romantic relationships at Dauntless are prohibited as they can distract from the focus on recovery and can lead to expulsion or loss of privileges depending on the number of offenses, at least according to the handbook I read this afternoon.

I volunteered to help Tori find Tris and return her to the treatment center. And okay, I'll admit it. The possibility of time with the sassy blonde swayed me. Tris is still staring at me, though I can't read her expression well.

I wonder what she's thinking. We both could have gotten in big trouble over what she did. I didn't want to stop it either, but it does feel odd to be kissing a girl that I just met today. I decide to pretend that nothing happened until I can talk to her privately.

I can't remember the last time that I actually ran this much or this long at one time. I try to refocus while we all catch our breath. "Ready to go back?" Tori asks, but neither of us speaks so I just nod my head silently.

There aren't any specific rules that keep us from leaving Dauntless if we want to unless we are unable to make decisions for ourselves or are being held there involuntarily, but it doesn't seem like the smartest idea especially during detox.

I understand why she ran though at least partly. I saw how much she was struggling at dinner. We climb into the van just as the sun is setting. The desert sunset is a beautiful sight of deep blues and reds.

We arrive just as group is ending when Tori announces we have free time until lights out at ten o'clock. It's eight now. I whisper into Tris' ear to meet me outside on the porch so we can talk alone.

I take a seat on a padded porch swing, swinging slowly while I watch the sun set. I haven't been sure about wanting to be in treatment until tonight when I realized there is a reason I want to stay. It's her. I can't leave now. I like her too much. There, I said it. But I won't say it again

Looking at her is like waking up. Something about her draws me to her. Feeling her lips on mine was incredible. Maybe we can help each other through. Maybe we were meant to be here together, I'm not sure on what level yet, but it seems like fate.

It's quiet and peaceful out here, an occasional breeze blows through. I find myself lost in thought until I see her walking towards me. "Hey." she greets, taking a seat next to me. "Hi. Thanks for meeting me out here." I reply.

"Look, I'm just going to say it. We both know what we did was a bad idea." I tell her quietly. "S do you regret it then?" she asks with a note of sadness in her voice. "No. Of course not. It's just...it's not safe. We almost got caught and I barely know you and you kissed me."

"So I shouldn't do it again?" she asks with an eyebrow raised. "Not here. We could get to know each other though start off as friends." I shake my head. "I'm not sure how to be friends. Friends don't kiss each other after all." she retorts.

"I guess we try to forget." I tell her solemnly. "I don't want to forget." she says with a note of longing in her voice. "Fine, but we have to be careful. We can't get caught." I concede, knowing it's a dangerous proposition.

After a quick glance to make sure the coast is clear, I ask if she wants to kiss me again. She cuts me off before I can finish speaking and this time, there's no rush. There is only the warmth and tenderness of her lips on mine.

"That will have to do for now." I chuckle. "Okay, that'll do." she answers. So much for getting to know her better first when we can't seem to keep our hands off of each other. "S tell me about yourself." I say, trying to be subtle.

We both laugh as she jokes that maybe I should leave that line to the therapists here. We're ushered inside soon after though we vowed to spend time alone together again. It's dark now and no one is in the dayroom.

I head to my room alone, lost in my thoughts again. The warmth and shivers are the first things that I notice while trying to sleep. I'm hot and cold at the same time which makes it hard to sleep.

An achiness throughout my body along with sweat and a runny nose also keep me up. They gave me meds to try to help the withdrawal, but withdrawal feels like a bad flu that makes it hard to do anything.

I give up on sleep and enter the dayroom even though I'm tired and irritable. I find that I'm not alone as I find Tris sitting on an adjacent couch, looking like hell. Her eyes are bloodshot and she is simultaneously sweating and shivering.

"You look like hell." I bellow. "Back at you." she says while raising an eyebrow. "Couldn't sleep?" I ask as she shakes her head. We sit silently until a new person we haven't seen before enters the room to sit by us.

He has dark skin and looks like Uriah, but older. "Hi, I'm Zeke. I work here. Uriah's my brother." he greets us. "I'm Tobias, but I go by Four and this is Beatrice but she goes by Tris." I reply, while shaking his hand.


	5. You Learn

_**A/N: Hi everyone, hope you're having a great Sunday! Sorry for the long hiatus between chapters, life's been busy and I'm moving next weekend. There's a quote from Divergent hidden in this chapter, brownie points to anyone who can find it. Enjoy!**_

_**Did You Know?**_

The substances most frequently abused by people with eating disorders include caffeine, tobacco, alcohol, laxatives/diuretics/emetics, appetite supplements (amphetamines), heroin, and/or cocaine.

Tris' POV

Soon after Tobias and I meet each other in the dayroom, breakfast begins. I'm relieved to see that my meal for breakfast is smaller than dinner last night except for one thing: peanut butter. I have a tray of a bagel with peanut butter spread on it, an apple, and a glass of milk.

I know from previous experience that peanut butter tends to have a lot of sugar and calories which makes me feel anxious just looking at it. I decide to start on the apple first since it's the least anxiety-provoking for me. I finish the apple and drink about half of the milk.

I have to start in on the bagel, but I don't want to. Peanut butter is one of my biggest foods that I eat during a binge and I fear it will just make me fatter. Everything served here seems to be aimed at doing that.

I take a deep breath and start in on the bagel. It doesn't taste bad, so I try to just get through it without thinking too much about it. Everyone else seems to be playing some type of game or talking while they eat, but I tune it out so I can focus on the task at hand.

I quickly finish the first half of the bagel and drink some milk. The second half still remains. Tobias moves over with his tray to sit by me while we both try to finish our food. "Hi" I whisper quietly.

"Hi" he grins back. "You can do this, you're almost done." he encourages. "I know, but I don't want to eat this especially with the peanut butter. I know it's silly. You seem so fearless to me, like nothing scares you. I wish I could be like that." I reply.

"It's not silly at all. Becoming fearless isn't the point. That's impossible. It's learning how to control your fear, and how to be free from it." he responds. It's smart and I think I know what he means. Maybe there's a certain power to not allowing your fears to control you, it gives me a sense of hope as I finish eating.

Next, we're lead into a small group room with Uriah, Tobias, and some other patients I haven't seen before. Once everyone is seated, the door is shut and the leader of the group crosses the room.

"Hi, my name is Lauren. I'm one of the therapists and group leaders here. Welcome to CBT group- that is Cognitive Behavioral therapy. Today, we're going to talk about all-or-nothing thinking. Can anyone explain what that is to me?" she asks.

One girl raises her hand and I'm slightly amused at how this seems like school rather than treatment. "All-or-nothing thinking is when you think that something is either one thing or the other with no inbetween, like everything is either all good or all bad." the girl answers.

"Excellent, so we're each going to think of examples and look at ways to counter this type of thinking. Let's start by thinking of some words that might be found in sentences that contain all-or-nothing thinking." she says.

"Not." another boy says. "Always." another person in the back tells her as she begins to write on the board. By the time everyone has added a word, there's a list that reads: Not, always, never, should/must/have to, every, nothing, or.

"Great, I think we've all done a good job at this so far. Now, I'd like everyone to think about an example of all-or-nothing thinking in their own lives and share it with the group." she tells us. I tune most of the other examples out until it's Tobias' turn.

"If I can't always stay clean, there's no point in getting sober." he tells everyone calmly. Then it's my turn to speak. "If my parents weren't always proud of me, I must not have been a good daughter." I say which feels as though it's true. I know I haven't always made my parents proud and I fear I wouldn't be doing so now either.

"Thank you all for sharing. Now, I'm going to write some strategies we can try to help argue against these thoughts." she beams.

After she has finished writing the list, the board reads: Consider alternative points of view, Consider evidence for and against thoughts, Are the thoughts fair or true?, Are the thoughts based on fact or feeling?, Taking the middle path (everything is neither all good or all bad, things don't always or never happen, etc.), Have realistic expectations for yourself and others, Try using the word and instead of or, THINK- Is it True, Helpful, Inspirational, Necessary, and Kind?

"For the rest of group time today, I'd like everyone to write their example of all-or-nothing thinking and try one or more of the strategies to do this." she states as she passes out worksheets for everyone to do.

She does seem like our teacher and that we are her students especially with her writing on the board and having us do worksheets, I think. What a strange irony this is.

I write "If my parents weren't always proud of me, I must not have been a good daughter." in the 'distorted' thought column and try to come up with ways to use the strategies she mentioned.

There are 'four counterarguments to this thought' columns on the worksheet to fill in. By the end of the group, I have written:

I may not have always been a good daughter and that is okay.

I may have felt that I wasn't always a good daughter, but that isn't true. I did my best.

I tried my best to be a good daughter and that is enough.

I did some things that made my parents proud and some things that did not. No one's perfect.

I finish writing in the last column of my worksheet before it ends and we have free time before morning snack at 10 which is in about 45 minutes.


End file.
